


Grilled Cheese

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-12
Updated: 2005-12-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 06:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12075771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Brian and Justin have a spat, and Justin takes out his frustration on the stovetop. Geometry and Grilled Cheese, what more can you ask?





	Grilled Cheese

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Given the above diagram, in which quadrilateral DEFG is a parallelogram, prove the following:

Angles G and E are congruent.

Some of the tomato soup sloshes over the edge of the cup and slops onto the marble countertop. This could perhaps be because Justin’s hands are shaking, but he prefers to blame it on the reverberations from Brian’s shouting, which must have upset the delicate equilibrium of his inner ear, thus disrupting his sense of balance. 

The air rings with silence for a few minutes, or maybe that’s just his ears, and then Brian speaks again. It’s quieter this time, and Justin sets the cup on the counter so he can focus.

“Justin.”

_1\. Quadrilateral DEFG is a parallelogram ~ Given_

Funny how one word can convey such meaning, but less amusing when it quivers with irritation, strung taut like a bow. Brian has that tone of impatience, implying that he has a million and one better things to be doing, which, Justin resists pointing out, considering his current state of unemployment, he really doesn’t. 

Instead, Justin responds by calmly slapping the day-glo orange cheese on his buttered bread, patiently slamming the two slices together, and politely shoving his way past Brian to get to the stove.

“Justin,” Brian repeats warningly.

“Making sure you don't forget it again?” 

Wry, witty, and handy with a skillet. Maybe Emeril is in the market for a sidekick. Testing his skill, Justin presses the sandwich together, listening with satisfaction as it sizzles, and formulates his reply. 

They both know how this is going to end, but like his quasi-recovering alcoholic geometry teacher Mr. Carter always chanted, it’s not the answer that’s important, but the process. And goddammit, he deserves to be examined, mulled over, scratched at, and untangled.

He's just not sure that Brian's going to pass the test this time.

_2\. Segment DE is parallel to segment GF ~ Definition of a parallelogram_

“Do you want one?” He is a paragon of tolerance and tranquility. 

“I’m not the one who’s pouting,” Brian mocks. Justin takes this to mean ‘yes, thanks,’ and so he grabs more bread and an orange square. Brian doesn’t protest beyond a cursory huff and eye roll. 

“I thought you liked kids.” Brian manages to phrase it like an accusation or a verbalization of Justin’s dark, twisted affection for small children. Justin quells the urge to mention that it’s Brian who likes them young.

“I enjoy them in the singular,” he informs Brian instead. “A roomful is a whole different thing.” He flips his sandwich with the spatula, taking obsessive-compulsive pleasure in the way the bread is browned in crisp concentric circles. Symmetry appeals to Justin, even in food. He is an artiste, after all, even though Brian apparently feels the need to denigrate his genius. 

The snickering is throwing off his mental timer. Two minutes, thirty-four seconds each side. Or forty-four seconds for this one, because he’s pissed at Brian and culinary passive-aggression seems an appropriately perverse method of retaliation. 

“You take care of Gus all the time,” Brian points out, trying to be reasonable now, subverting Justin with his irrefutably calm logic, but his tapping fingers and superior sneer tend to ruin the effect. Brian could have been a lawyer if he wasn’t so driven to demonstrate his supremacy to everyone in sight. And to fuck everyone in sight, but that’s another issue altogether.

_3\. Angle GDF is congruent to angle EFD ~ When a transversal cuts parallel lines, alternate interior angles are congruent_

Justin flips the bread onto a plate in an elaborate motion, attempting to stifle the sudden vivid image of he and Brian enacting some kind of kinky courtroom sex scenario that quickly progresses into the interior of a prison. 

“My ability to handle you drunk and high is a better gauge of my competence with a crowd of small children,” he says distractedly, as Brian hisses and sneers again, “but I’m still not doing it.”

“You expect me to pay all the bills myself? This is a job opportunity.” 

Nice try, but he’s so not falling for it. He’s ten steps ahead, baby, and keeping the beat strong. Justin shakes his hips a little to the bass in his head, and Brian blinks, unnerved.

“I can make twice as much in the diner in half the time.” The beep of the microwave heralds his victory.

“But I’m the one who has to sleep next to your smelly, greasy presence.”

“You never seemed to mind my smelly, greasy presence in bed before.”

“I felt sorry for you. I didn't want you to feel self-conscious about the stench emanating from your ass.”

_4\. Angle GFD is congruent to angle EDF ~ When a transversal cuts parallel lines, alternate interior angles are congruent_

Justin nods, his smirk matching Brian’s. It is now Justin’s turn, but he is clever and he has learned and he stays silent. After a minute, he is rewarded with two truncated syllables. 

“Justin.” 

Was that a question? He thinks not, and so he doesn’t answer, because he’s strong and he’s not giving in. Absolutely not.

Even when Brian’s mouth is suddenly poised over his neck and Brian’s length is pressed up against his back. Not. Giving. In.

“I’m trying to cook,” he protests, and Oh God, he did not just say something so terrifyingly reminiscent of his mother. Unfortunately, judging by the expression on Brian’s face, which has once again twisted into a smirk, he did. The laughter is cut off with an abrupt oomph when Justin applies his elbow to Brian’s solar plexus. 

Since he thinks he still might be pissed, he pushes harder than he originally intended, and Brian doubles over for a second. When he straightens, his eyes are cold, like he’s exhaled all his good humor. 

“I was trying to help you get a goddamn job, but if you want to act like a fucking brat, fine. I’m done.” He turns away, slipping into the computer chair and opening a file, working on something, nothing, anything but Justin. His face is blank, utterly self-absorbed, because this man is an island and Justin’s been voted off. 

Mouth pulled down sourly, Justin flips the other grilled cheese onto a plate, extracts both cups from the microwave, and sets everything down on the countertop. Placing his hands on the marble surface, he breathes in, breathes out, and quashes the impulse to thrash Brian with his spatula. 

_5\. Segment DF is congruent to itself ~ Reflexive property_

After a few bites of grilled cheese and tomato soup, he feels much better, because that’s what symmetrical food does to him. He’s easy that way. Picking up a plate and a cup, Justin walks toward Brian, who pretends not to notice. 

He sets the cup and the plate down on the edge of the desk, and slides his arms around Brian’s neck and shoulders. Brian doesn’t react, which could be good or could be bad. 

“Sorry,” Justin whispers, experimentally. Brian continues to click aimlessly around the monitor, and doesn’t answer. They remain in silence for a moment, and Justin drops his head onto Brian’s shoulder, inhaling. 

“I’m not hungry,” Brian says, but it’s petulant, almost teasing, instead of antagonistic. 

“My mom always used to make this for me when I was upset,” Justin mumbles, his lips pressed against Brian’s shirt.

“I’m not upset,” Brian whispers.

“I know.” 

_6\. Triangle GDF is congruent to triangle EFD ~ Angle-Side-Angle Postulate (3, 4, 5)_

Brian’s hand rises and his thumb traces the line of Justin’s arm, and then rests for an instant on his lips. 

“So you’ll think about it.”

“How did you hear about this job anyway?” Justin is sleepy now, and he leans against Brian heavily. 

“Lindsay knows the principal, from when she used to teach art at the college, and she mentioned that they needed an art teacher for the elementary school. It would only be a few times a week. And you wouldn’t come home smelly and greasy and sweaty.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t get tips for my great ass, either,” Justin retorts, swinging his ass around into Brian’s lap to underscore his point. 

“I’ll give you some tips for your ass,” Brian murmurs. “Like where to put it.”

Justin chuffs and rubs his face into Brian’s neck, feeling the feather-kisses that linger on his head as Brian’s hand burns a trail up his thigh. Lifting his face, his lips fit against Brian’s, and their tongues mesh. 

They wander to the bedroom, limbs tangled, and Brian even refrains from protest, beyond nipping at his neck, when Justin bends backward to snatch the last bite of grilled cheese off his plate. 

_7\. Angles G and E are congruent ~ Corresponding parts of congruent triangles are congruent._


End file.
